Jax's Dilemma:Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 2)

Jax’s Dilemma

An Insurgents MC Romance

Chiah Wilder

Copyright © 2015 by Chiah Wilder

Kindle Edition

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Hot Tree Editing

Cover design by
Cheeky Covers

Proofreading by
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Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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Description

Jax, Sergeant-At-Arms of the Insurgents Motorcycle Club, likes his women easy.

Raised in the outlaw biker world, Jax has bedded more women than he can count. The only things on his mind are big ass Harleys, scorching whiskey, and pretty women who can spread on command.

Then he meets Cherri—the stripper with ice blue eyes and white-blonde hair.

He wants her in his bed.

She would rather not.

Cherri has complicated stamped all over her. Jax doesn’t need a woman like her messing up his life.

Too bad he can’t stop thinking about her.

Cherri ran away from a bad situation back home.

She has secrets she hasn’t shared with anyone. Stripping is her means of making enough money to start a new life, and nothing’s going to screw up her plans.

Then she meets Jax.

He’s gorgeous, sexy, and a cocky bastard. His tattooed, ripped chest and biceps make her drool. She knows she should run far away from him, but her body wants him in the worst way.

Just as she begins to relax, her past collides with her new life. Cherri must navigate a deadly obstacle course littered with outlaw motorcycle clubs and a power-hungry politician.

Jax won’t stop until he claims Cherri. He vows to protect and love Cherri no matter what. When put to the test, will Jax betray his family—the Insurgents MC—or will he lose the woman he loves forever?

The Insurgents MC series are standalone romance novels. This is Jax and Cherri’s love story. This book contains violence, strong language, and steamy sexual scenes. HEA. No cliffhangers!
The book is intended for readers over the age of 18.

Previous Titles in the Series:

Hawk’s Property: Insurgents Motorcycle Club Book 1

Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Description

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Author’s Note

About Chas’s Fervor

Excerpt from Chas’s Fervor

Prologue

T
he scorching sun
bored into Cherri’s skin as she lay among the wildflowers. Vibrant blues, purples, yellows, and pinks carpeted the verdant field. Evergreens stood tall on the mountain range as a gurgling creek lulled her to a state of peacefulness. She could almost feel goosebumps on her forearms as a light breeze caressed her.

“Fuck, that feels good, hon.”

The raspy, male voice brought Cherri back to reality, and she looked at the thirty-something man grunting and sweating as he thrust his dick in and out of her. She stared at the peeling paint in the corner of the ceiling. If only the jerk wouldn’t have opened his mouth, she would’ve been able to stay in her safe place.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he said as he squeezed her small breasts too hard. Putting his mouth over her pink nipples, he sucked them like a vacuum.

Fuck, when is this tool going to come?
Cherri tried hard to get back to her safe place, but she couldn’t; her valley of wildflowers and sunshine was gone, retreating to the far corners of her mind until the next time she needed a haven.

She had created her safe place when she was fourteen years old and her life had turned to shit. It kept her sane until she split three years later to make her own way.

Finally, at the age of eighteen, her wildflower valley made the sex tolerable, especially with old men like the one who kept pawing her and pushing his lame dick into her. At least she’d get five hundred dollars for this trick. Even though she normally didn’t turn tricks, this guy was different—or so Brandon, the bartender at the gentlemen’s club where she danced, told her. The guy was rich and someone important. A councilman, she thought. The money was too good to pass up, so she agreed to be with him. She just wished he’d finish already; she wanted to go back to her apartment and take a long shower to wash off his stench.

“Are you getting close to coming?” He squeezed her breasts again.

“Huh…? Oh, yeah, sure, baby. You make me feel real good. I’m coming now.” Putting on one of her better performances, Cherri writhed and screamed as she bucked under him.

“I’m coming now, too,” he grunted. He stiffened, exhaled, and collapsed beside her.

It’s about fuckin’ time.
Turning her head toward the window, she could see the blue sky. Tightness covered her chest while her throat grew thick. She wondered if being a whore was her destiny. Saltiness stung her eyes as she squeezed them shut, willing herself to be anywhere but in that mediocre motel room with the tobacco-stained curtains and the peeling paint.

A swat on her butt made her turn her head toward her paying lover. He leaned in close; his sweat was pungent. He kissed her deeply, his tongue thick and wet in her mouth, making her want to gag.

“That was awesome, hon. You and I are going to be regulars. I like the way you make me feel. I know you liked it.” Running his eyes over her, he lingered on her young breasts. Wiping his brow with his fingers, he said, “I can be a real generous man. You think you’d like to be my permanent girlfriend? I can set you up real good.”

Could I stand him pawing at me all the time?
“Would we live together?”

“I’d love that, but no, we’d have to be discreet. You know, with my political position and all. I’d set you up in a nice apartment. I’ll use untraceable funds. I’d come see you a few times a week. We may be able to sneak away once in a while for a weekend trip or so, but, for now, we’d have to stay in. I’ll give you an expense account, of course.”

“So, I couldn’t see you every day?”

Dragging her closer to him, he smiled. “I know that’s a disappointment, hon, but I’ll make every minute count when I come over. Oh, I won’t be spending the night, either. I have to stay under the radar, you know? Once things calm down after the election, we can see each other more. What do you say?”

Inside, her body sang for joy. Did this two-bit politician think she
wanted
to be with him all the time?
What an ego he must have.

“Oh, and I have one condition: you have to quit your job at the bar. You won’t need to strip anymore. I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of, if you make sure I am. You know what I mean?” Winking at her, he leered and twisted her breast.

Wincing at the force of his touch, Cherri nodded. What did she have to lose? Not having to strip for a bunch of sweaty, lecherous men was a dream come true. The possibility of moving out of her roach-infested shithole made her giddy. For once, she’d be in a nice, safe place and wouldn’t have to worry all the time about being evicted or attacked. Plus, the proposition sounded a hell of a lot better than the shit life she currently had. Maybe she’d finally be able to save enough money so she could get out of Denver and go somewhere quiet and respectable, pretending her past never existed.

“Sure, why not?”

He hugged her while he rubbed her dry slit. “You’re making me horny again, hon.”

As he groped her body, Cherri sighed, fixing her eyes on the ceiling.

Chapter One

Three years later

Pinewood Springs, Colorado

“C
herri, I need
your ass out there waiting tables. Miranda called in sick and we’re short tonight,” Emma, the club manager, said.

“What about my dance set?”

“I switched you to the last slot. You’ll be on in about two hours. You’re the only one who’s worth shit around here. You can dance
and
waitress. One of your tables will be the Insurgents.”

Cherri’s stomach lurched. “Can’t Liza take it? She likes catering to them.”

“They asked for you, and since they’re paying your salary and own the club, you fuckin’ do what they ask. Go on, now. Get your ass out there, and be sure to wiggle it so you can get some big tips.”

Cherri peeked out from behind the curtains to take in the room. Yep, there he was, sitting at the front table, his jean-clad legs straddling the chair backwards. He wore a black vest with patches all over it; the left top side had a diamond-shaped, 1% er patch, while the right side had one which read Sergeant-At-Arms and underneath it, his name:
Jax
. Tight across his muscular chest, his black t-shirt showed off his well-defined pecs and abs. His sandy brown hair was longer on the top and shorter on the sides, and pierced eyebrows framed his hazel eyes. A full sleeve of tattoos decorated his right arm while his other bore various designs of skulls and daggers. He was handsome in a rugged way, his five o’clock shadow giving his face a hard edge.

Staring intently at one of the dancers spreading her legs and running her red-tipped fingers over her slit, he leaned forward, his bulging biceps moving with him.

“Come on, Cherri. Get a move on! We got a full house,” Emma barked from behind her. Shutting the curtains, Cherri ran to her dressing room, threw on a turquoise t-shirt and a short skirt over her thong, and rushed out to the bar area.

Dream House was utter chaos that night, and she knew her feet would be blistered and sore from standing on her four-inch heels for too long. Even though she was aware she should be grateful to be alive and at the strip club, she was sick of everything. When she had learned she was primed to be the Mountainside Strangler’s next victim and had narrowly escaped torture and death, she shuddered. If the Insurgents hadn’t come to the Deadly Demons’ clubhouse a couple of months before rescuing her, she’d be six feet under.

Choosing to work at Dream House hadn’t turned out so bad, and it was a lot better than waitressing at one of the Insurgents’ restaurants. She knew the MC wanted to keep her close because she knew a bit too much about what happened that early November morning at the Nomads’ clubhouse. What the MC didn’t get was she was happier than hell they had eliminated the pieces of shit who’d enslaved her. She’d never squeal, not in a hundred years, but these outlaw bikers didn’t trust her, so there she was, shaking her ass once again at another strip club.

When she came up to the Insurgents’ table, her stomach felt queasy. The guys always made her go into panic mode, never knowing when one of them might touch her or, worse yet, force himself on her. So far, they’d contented themselves with just looking and making lewd comments, but she saw the way they fucked the club whores. It was like the whole club, including the women, just wanted to fuck all the time. It was disgusting.

“Come on over here, sweetness,” Jax said, looking at her with lust in his eyes.

She had avoided going over to his side, preferring to stand next to Chas and Axe, who were engrossed in watching the dancer play with her big tits.

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